


All Hands on Deck

by Nejinee



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Swimming, summertime, swim trunks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7966801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Lang had also said that Steve was allowed to wear whatever he wanted because he was Captain-fucking-America and he saved the world and he also filled out those itty bitty shorts really well and that they were all blessed to witness such divinity.</p><p>-</p><p>A little PWP involving a swimming pool and Steve Rogers' short-shorts and Bucky fearing for the safety of his junk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hands on Deck

Bucky never figured he was a possessive sort of guy. Angry sometimes and yes, a little off-balance, but not possessive.

He was leaps and bounds more coherent and solid, in body _and_ mind, than he’d been in decades, and it all really came down to the fact his best friend had overcome _death_ and made it out in time to pull Bucky from his own personal hell. Whoever said Steve Rogers couldn’t weather hard times didn’t know shit. He was literally frozen in a Hydra catastrophe for seventy years and still came out lookin’ like a star-spangled fuckin’ angel with a mean right hook.

And Bucky was grateful every day for this. Sure, he couldn’t read about the Avengers’ exploits for very long before wanting to strangle himself and/or Steve in sheer frustration, but progress was progress. How the blonde moron made it to this point was probably due to sheer dumbass stubbornness more than anything.

And now that he and Steve were ‘an item’ as Barton brayed all the time, Bucky was starting to think that of the two of them, Steve was the one everyone should be keeping more of an eye on.

Steve was a master at looking innocent, with that fluffy hair and those doe-like eyes. He played people so smoothly, no one was the wiser. Well, except for Black Widow. She knew what was up. And Bucky, but Bucky was more of a sucker because he knew he was bein’ played, and went along with it anyway.

Bucky was sure that Steve could carry out a murder spree all day every day and he’d be forgiven in a heartbeat because he was just so _gosh darn_ earnest. And he was Captain America, of course. _Still_ Captain America. Bucky’s a raging monster assassin for seventy-odd years and when he finally gets free, he finds Captain Goddamn America waiting with arms wide open. It was a helluva thing.

Back to Steve, though. Bucky was about 92% sure this ‘item’ thing was working out okay. Steve was … well, really sweet on him. Said he had been for a long time. Bucky’s brain was pretty much like mashed potatoes on a good day, so his memories of Brooklyn, of every moment back then, well, those memories don’t serve him too well. He can’t remember whether he’d noticed. Had he realized Steve was soft on him? Had it mattered? Really, all Bucky could ever contribute to this was the fact that Steve meant something more to him than anything else he’d ever had, before and after Hydra. Even the Winter Soldier had seen it.

So he wasn’t really sure he was deserving of Steve. Steve was a big boy. Didn’t need saving anymore. Steve was the one who saved people. Steve had saved _him._

And Bucky was pretty sure Steve’s all-encompassing love for him was going to be his downfall, somehow. Because how could Bucky reciprocate? How would he ever repay this man properly, for just simply loving him?

Lying in bed, Bucky knew that Steve’s love was sometimes warm and enduring, but, like now, his love could also be kind of, perhaps, a little scary.

At the moment, Bucky was warm and newly awake from a long, deep sleep. The sun was only just filtering in, and he knew they didn’t have much in the way of plans today; Which was good.

Oh, minor detail worth mentioning: Steve’s large, heavy left hand was currently placed in a not-too-unfamiliar spot over Bucky’s crotch.

This wasn’t the first time Bucky’d woken up to this. At least he had underwear on this time, and sweatpants. W _hy_ was Steve like this? The first time had been all kinds of awkward, but because Steve was rarely awake before Bucky, the blonde idiot wasn’t around to see Bucky’s face contort in confused fear/arousal. Was there a word for that in this modern era? Fearousal? Either way, it had been a bit of a weird boner situation.

It happened every now and then that Bucky would find Steve possessively holding his junk. There, it was out. It wasn’t anything like a hardship (hah), but it was still unnerving. _Obviously_ , Bucky reasoned, Steve’s hand just slipped down from where he’d been hugging Bucky’s chest and/or hips earlier in the night. Steve wasn’t actively _protecting_ or holding Bucky’s nuts hostage, was he? Probably not.

So again, Bucky found himself gently pulling Steve’s arm away. He was messed up, sure, but not so bad as to not tingle in a bit of fear that those super soldier fingers would spasm in the night and remove some pretty neat parts of his anatomy. He was down one limb already, no need for more amputations.

Steve murmured something as he smothered himself deeper into a pillow. Bucky just scooted out of Steve’s bed (because it was in Steve’s room) and made his way into the shower where he could fret about what the implications were of waking up semi-hard with your best friend’s fingers gently cupping your crotch.

 

—

 

This ‘item’ situation was new and great, but still jarring on occasion. 

What it revealed to Bucky was that a lot of sparring situations devolved into grunting make-out sessions in the Stark Tower gym. It also meant they got to lie on top of each other when they had a movie marathon Sunday and tried their best to catch up on fifty years of Hollywood. It also meant Bucky could run his fingers through Steve’s hair and not feel like a total creep about it. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever done this with any of the dames back home. He couldn’t be absolutely sure on that, but he had flashes of the few amorous moments from his youth that seemed too real to be anything other than Brooklyn days. Hydra and covert Russia weren’t known for implanting sexy-time memories in their weapons.

Bucky liked it, this thing. Steve definitely liked it if his wide, toothy smiles were anything to go by. What a sap. 

He and Steve had had ‘the talk’ though; The one about separating personal and professional. Because even if they were a dynamic fighting duo, they couldn’t be a couple on the battlefield. Bucky’d been fine with this. Made sense, really. Steve had a harder time with it. There were too many moments when he’d be distracted by Bucky’s fighting, or overly concerned with how Bucky was doing, that the rest of the team had had to lay down the law.

Separate missions or no missions at all. 

So yeah, they could separate personal and professional. Mostly because they were physically separating them, but still.

It worked okay for them.

 

—

 

The rest of the team was off on some kind of undercover bust in Dubai.

Strange to have the tower to themselves, but Steve and Bucky made the most of it. Romanov had insisted they’d be unnecessary, as two hefty super soldiers would just stand out too much where they were going. Steve had huffed and puffed a little, stating the fact he’d blended in perfectly well in Europe on their last escapade. Romanov talked about Budapest, though, and well, yeah. Budapest was always going to be a problematic memory. Not Steve, or Bucky’s most covert operation.

So the two Brooklynites were just ‘chillaxing’ as Lang liked to say. Bucky wasn’t very good at ‘chillaxing'.

Stark had one of those crazy rooftop patios with a pool. It was insane how high up things could be built nowadays. Bucky leaned over the metal railing, the whole of New York City spreading out like a quilt beneath him. It was hot outside, with not a cloud in sight and he couldn’t make out the people on the street. They really were too high up. The only other level from here was the helipad up top, and that was all quiet.

“Hey, come on, Buck, relax a little,” Steve said from behind him. Bucky turned, the sun slanting across his eyes and making him squint.

Steve was still in the pool, making a fool of himself. Bucky had flashbacks of fire hydrants and torrential downpours, but not swimming pools. These were things only the rich folks had. Not just a large body of clear water, but people to clean the damn things. Bucky knew Stark wasn’t coming up here once a week to fish out the dead bugs and crap that drowned in the water every so often.

Bucky stepped down off the concrete ledge and hopped over the ornamental plants that dotted the balcony’s perimeter. The slabs were hot under his bare feet, soaking up the warm sunshine.

Steve was already freckling, if the change in his shoulders was anything to go by. Sure, the freckles would be gone by the morning, but it was fascinating to see.

Bucky walked around the pool, Steve swimming lazily alongside him.

“C’mon, Buck, one dip in the pool. You’ll like it.”

Bucky just sighed and slumped onto one of the many deck chairs that they’d dragged closer to the water.

“Can’t, I’ll get food cramps,” he murmured, reclining back in a seat. 

Steve snorted, “Don’t make me say what you say almost everyday.”

Bucky frowned. “Huh?”

“‘ _Can’t get sick, can’t get sore, super soldier stomach_ ’ might be the words I recall. Though you’re usually saying it with a mouthful of meat.”

Bucky smirked. “I’ll show you a mouthful,” he murmured. He was way more comfortable with these jokes now.

Steve just rolled his eyes and pushed off from the side of the pool, arms dragging him slowly away through the water. It looked refreshing. And it was hella hot, as Parker had said previously. But swimming pools? They weren’t really Bucky’s thing.

So he just laid back and soaked up the sunshine instead. It was so quiet with everyone gone, so blissful. Like all the restless buzzing he knew was going on had been shut down and turned off. Eventually everyone would come lumbering back and Bucky’d have to listen to their tales of battle (Barton) and scabbed knees (Parker), but until then, he’d take this peace.

And he’d watch Steve.

Because there was no better pastime than watching Steve Rogers go about his daily business in nothing more than a pair of short-shorts. Apparently, they weren’t called underwear, but hell if Bucky could tell the difference. Looked like underwear. He’d said as much, and of course Steve had sputtered on about swim trunks or something until Romanov had kindly added that Steve wasn’t wearing the smallest kind of swimwear, that there were more revealing things out there. And Barton had indicated that yes, that was true, but his own trunks were much looser and longer than Steve’s so really, it was a preference thing. And Lang had also said that Steve was allowed to wear whatever he wanted because he was Captain-fucking-America and he saved the world and he also filled out those itty bitty shorts really well and that they were all blessed to witness such divinity. 

Steve didn’t like to swim with the others much.

Apparently Stark had used the pool for courting women back in the day, go figure.

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky blinked. Oh, Steve was back, arms resting on the warm bricks, chin on his forearm.

“You daydreamin’, buddy?” Steve smiled.

Bucky huffed and sat up, one leg slipping off the lounger.

“C’mere,” Bucky said in answer. He tapped the lounger’s seat.

Steve cocked a brow. “Why don’t you come in here?”

Bucky whined. “C’mon, Steve.”

Steve had the audacity to chuckle. He was barely a foot away and it might as well have been three miles for all the action Bucky was getting out of it. Bucky was not going in the pool. He hated swimming, goddamnit. Bucky’s lip ticked up at the side. “C’mon, Stevie,” he patted the seat again. “Come say hi.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah okay, sure.” 

Bucky could tell this wasn’t working. So he figured he could play cruel, just a little. He tugged at his light grey t-shirt (the one with the torn off sleeves, the one Steve loved) and yanked it over his head.

Steve’s eyes widened a fraction. Bucky draped the shirt over the back of the chair and leaned back, foot coming to rest flat on the seat. He smirked.

Steve scowled. “You think you’re all that, huh?” Steve muttered.

Bucky wasn’t too familiar with the phrasing, but he got the gist.

“I’m just enjoying the sunshine,” Bucky smiled and closed his eyes, right hand resting on his stomach. 

Bucky knew by now that this body did things to Steve. He’d figured it out eventually, but Steve was really quite taken with Bucky as a whole. When Bucky felt overly-large, or bulky in his body, Steve just reassured him with hungry eyes that it was all good. Everything was good. That was usually when Steve’s fingers found their way into Bucky’s sweatpants.

So yes, Bucky was playing unfair.

And Steve knew it. How often did he get to see Bucky shirtless, warm and tan in the sunshine? Never. And how often did Bucky get the opportunity to get down and dirty with Steve in the sunshine? Almost never (there was that one time, just outside Vancouver, you see).

“Are you seriously gonna make me come over there?” Steve whined.

“Not making you do anything,” Bucky rumbled, opening one eye. “You’re a free man, Rogers.”

“And you’re a pain in my ass,” Steve grumbled.

Bucky snorted.

Steve wiped his dripping hair out of his eyes and blinked those wet lashes at him. Bucky couldn’t help sucking on his lip. Steve blinked again, then spoke. “How about a compromise, Barnes?”

Bucky quirked a brow. “No.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “You sure?” he murmured, moving through the water now, making his way to the stairs just to the side.

“Nothing short of you sitting on my lap is gonna make me reconsider moving,” Bucky retorted. He would have said more if his brain had been able to cooperate.

Steve had dunked his head, reappeared and was standing now, wiping at his face. He moved up the stairs slowly, like some form of slow torture.

Bucky actually swallowed audibly as inches of Steve Rogers’ glorious shoulders, arms and chest were revealed to his hungry eyes. 

Jesus Christ, Steve was built like a dream. and the way the pool water was rushing over that skin, droplets booming rivulets, cascading over every curve and valley…

“Goddamn,” Bucky breathed. “You just can’t play fair, can you?” he sat up fully, feeling a whole lotta blood rushing south. God in Heaven, _those shorts_! They were so tight and wet and they just clung to Steve like a second skin. How did people wear this stuff in public? On beaches?

Steve laughed and got out the pool. “So I win?”

“Pretty sure you’re heading my way, Rogers. So I win.”

Steve walked closer, the sunshine splintering over the water droplets scattered over his skin. Bucky’s breath was caught in his throat. This man was perfect, absolutely breathtakingly perfect. From his soft blonde hair, sharp nose, all the way down that chest, those hips, those huge thighs and all the way down to his feet. Perfect.

“That so?” Steve said, pushing a cold hand against Bucky’s chest. Bucky fell back into the chair again, eyes widening when Steve hopped a leg over him and hovered over his hips. Bucky stared up at Steve, pulse racing.

“I win,” Bucky croaked, then he cleared his throat and repeated himself. “I win.”

Steve chuckled and leaned over him, hands pressed beside Bucky’s ears, his weight finally settling on Bucky’s hips.

“You’re fucking cold and wet, Rogers,” Bucky growled. “Dripping all over the place.”

“Am I?” Steve purred, leaning in for a chaste kiss. Bucky almost gasped when Steve’s wet chest pressed against his own like some kind of freaky cold wet dream. Bucky already had dangerous hands and so, being the rebels that they are, they naturally found their way to Steve’s tiny shorts in a heartbeat.

Steve moaned softly when Bucky slipped his fingers under that flimsy wet fabric and grabbed two handfuls of luscious American ass.

The deck chair gave a weak protest as Steve nestled himself fully on top of Bucky. He was fucking _cold_ but he was also wet and slippery and clearly randy as hell if the prominent bulge in his shorts was anything to go by.

“Oh, _Baby_ ,” Bucky breathed, tongue already inside Steve’s mouth. And boy, if that little nickname didn’t have the desired effect.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve hummed, kissing him back fervently, squirming a little in Bucky’s lap. That did the trick.

Steve always seemed surprised, or something, every time he realized Bucky had a boner for him. Like Steve wasn’t the sexiest motherfucker to have ever barged into Bucky’s life. So when Steve pressed and rubbed and discovered just how hard Bucky was, well, he got a whole lot more amorous from there on.

Not that Bucky complained.

Thing is, neither of them would ever be classed as petite. So they did what they could in the space given.

In a matter of moments, the remnants of Steve’s tiny shorts were gone and Bucky was two fingers deep. Steve panted against him, licked at his lips and just goaded him on some more.

“C’mon Buck, c’mon.” They didn’t have any of that fancy new lube stuff handy, so Bucky contented himself with just this. This was perfectly okay, he could work with this.

“You feel good?” Bucky rumbled, kissing Steve’s collarbone. He twisted his fingers and Steve shuddered, pushing his erection into Bucky’s.

Bucky winced, feeling his trunks pushing in all the wrong ways. “Hold up, on sec. Ouch.”

Steve immediately backed off, but Bucky was, you know, still in him, so it got all weird for a moment. Bucky pulled Steve back down and pressed their lips together. 

“Steve, if you would be so kind as to release me?”

Steve lapped at him some more before his clearly sex-soaked brain responded. “Huh?”

“My shorts,” Bucky whispered, twisting his wrist a little and making Steve’s eyelids flutter.

“Fuck,” Steve swore, fingers immediately falling to Bucky’s stomach where he tugged at the laces holding Bucky’s sizeable erection at bay. Bucky was pretty sure Steve used clumsiness as an excuse to fumble his dick into submission.

“Oh _God,_ ” Bucky groaned when Steve opened the flaps of his swim trunks and proceeded to massage the ever-loving fuck out of Bucky’s junk.

Bucky’s hips stuttered and Steve also ground down on his fingers, egging Bucky on.

“Jesus, you are a fuckin’ menace,” Bucky gasped as he used his metal hand to get a grip on Steve’s ass and yank him higher so his other hand could get more room to move.

“Nuh uh,” Steve licked at Bucky’s teeth as those wicked hands of his squeezed and tugged at Bucky some more.

So Bucky tried desperately to focus and proceeded to find that delicate spot inside Steve and rubbed ever so gently just there. Steve shuddered and got ahold of his own dick alongside Bucky’s, his left hand holding him up now. The chair creaked some more.

“Bucky, Bucky, _Bucky_ ,” Steve chanted, all cold gone from his skin.

“Yeah, Baby, c’mon,” Bucky breathed, his own chest heaving. “Work me real good. You always do.”

Steve groaned loudly and opened those blue eyes to look down at Bucky, who hadn’t taken his gaze off Steve’s flushed face. “ _Bucky,_ ” Steve whispered, clearly close now. Bucky’s hand responded to Steve’s rocking hips, moving in a smooth, effortless rhythm, building it up just for Steve in just the way he liked it.

It wasn’t the same as Steve riding him, but it was quite the approximation.

So when Steve came with a mighty shudder and his come splattered across Bucky’s dick and stomach, it felt like they were back in Steve’s bed, or the sofa, or whatever other horizontal surface they’d made use of.

And it felt glorious watching Steve flush pink, his newly minted freckles standing out, his muscles tensing and flexing and _shivering_.

Fuck it was almost enough…

“Wait, wait,” Steve heaved, trying to not overbalance. He shakily sat up, Bucky’s fingers slipping free, and Bucky obliged by setting his knees up so Steve could lean back on his thighs. Bucky was doing his damn best to not blow his load because he _knew_ what was up.

Steve was really, really good at getting Bucky there. And when he was like this, skin wet and flushed and newly fucked out, _shit_ , he made it so so hard for Bucky to not just let go.

But it was usually worth it when Steve wrapped both hands around Bucky’s dick.

“Let’s… let’s see what you can do,” Steve gasped, still clearly coming back down.

“Shit,” was all Bucky could get out before Steve worked his magic. Using some of his own come, Steve proceeded to jack Bucky off like a Goddamn professional. He tugged and twisted and gently rubbed until Bucky’s stomach and hips were a quivering mess.

“Oh my _fuck,”_ Bucky gasped weakly, voice cracking as he felt his climax rising higher, higher.

“Come on, Baby, here we go,” Steve purred before the slick movements of his hand and the sound of his voice sent Bucky’s nerves flying. 

“Oh, God, _S-Steve_ ,” was all Bucky could get out, his brows furrowing and his pupils blowing wide. He came so hard, it was like all his nerves were being tugged out of him through his dick and were spurting across his stomach. He twitched and it actually jostled Steve, who looked more than pleased with himself, grown-ass man that he was.

“Jesus,” Bucky gasped, falling back, fingers letting go of Steve’s thighs.

He was still shivering. In broad daylight, mind you, which was a little surreal when all he could see was Steve’s beautiful face and the pale blue sky above.

“Nicely done, Barnes,” Steve whispered, coming in for a light kiss, wet, warm hands sliding up Bucky’s chest lewdly. “But I’m gonna call this one and say I won.”

“Ugh,” Bucky moaned, hands a flimsy mess. “Wha’ever.”

 

—

 

It was happening again.

Bucky was awake in bed and there was a hand on him. Fuck, what was this life of his?

He shifted slowly, then froze. Steve nuzzled him.  
“Mmm, Buck…?” Steve’s voice was dry from sleep.

Bucky breathed slowly. “Uh huh,” Bucky said softly, fully aware that those fingers could crush steel girders.

“Mmm,” Steve mumbled, scooching closer into Bucky’s neck.

There was this awkward silence where Bucky hoped Steve would drift off again because he didn’t really want to talk about this, yet he also needed to be free from a possible dick-removal.

Steve shifted again and Bucky froze when the hand shifted too. Then it gripped a little tighter. 

“Hmm,” Steve rumbled.

Bucky breathed carefully.

“Is that your dick in my hand?” Steve said into Bucky’s skin.

“Uh, yep,” Bucky answered.

Silence.

The hand softened its grip and Bucky almost shuddered with relief.

“Does …,” Steve said slowly, obviously just waking up. “Has this … happened before?”

Bucky nodded. “Ah, yep. A few times.”

Steve got to his elbows, finally looking down at Bucky, whose eyes were wide. He couldn’t really fake nonchalance at this hour.

“Sorry,” Steve muttered, pulling his hand away. “’s kinda weird.”

“Sometimes,” Bucky said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, thanks for the attention, but yeah. Not if you’re asleep.”

“Okay,” Steve slumped back down onto Bucky, pulling him in close and snuggling.

Well, okay then.

Bucky laid there contemplating the path his life had taken. From the tenements of Brooklyn to this penthouse suite in one of the fanciest twenty-first century buildings in New York, with his naked best friend slapped to his side. How Goddamn unpredictable.

“It’s just …” Steve murmured into his skin.

“What?” Bucky answered, fingers gently running up and down Steve’s broad back. Steve squirmed closer.

“I mean, it’s subconscious, you know that, right?” Steve said.

“I think so, yeah,” such fancy words.

“I mean,” Steve pushed on into the silence. “…I think it’s because my brain thinks you’re mine, or something. Which isn’t real, but yes. Sorry for grabbing your crotch.”

Bucky chuckled, feeling goosebumps ripple over Steve’s skin as his fingers fluttered. “So long as you don’t break it off.”

Steve pushed himself up just high enough to stare down at Bucky, incredulous.

“I would never!”

Bucky smiled wider. “Good. ‘Cos that would really suck.”

Steve smiled and leaned down to kiss Bucky softly. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t be much use to me otherwise.”

And Bucky proceeded to smother him with one of the many pillows littering Steve’s bed. Another solid day in the life of two idiots.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading! \o/ Enjoy the rest of your day! Farewell!
> 
>  
> 
> (also: sorry for the title. I just couldn't let such an opportunity go! >__>;;)


End file.
